Homecoming
by roguedoll
Summary: Flint returns home to recover M16s stolen by New Dawn. While there can he deal with his childhood past, Beachhead and his feelings for Lady Jaye?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sequel to Codename: Flint which are the prequels to House of Hart Series.

I don't own these characters Hasbro a whole bunch of other people do. Don't Sue you won't get nothing

Reviews, Questions and respectful criticisms are always welcomed, just know that snark will meant with snark.

Manhattan, Kansas

"Hurry up, LaCrosse." Javier Merino hissed. He watched irritated as Bruno LaCrosse moved slower than molasses on a cold Vermont day. He thought that Peterson said this kid knew what he was doing.

Instead, the kid looked confused staring at the DET cord taping it to the side of the door. Looking at his watch Javier swore. They only had a short window of time to get in and get out.

"What a time for Forrester to fall off the face of the Earth." Riley shook his head. "When I find him, I am going to kill him."

LaCrosse looked back at him, eyebrow raised. With a shake of his head, he turned back to attaching the detonator to the explosive cord.

"I would move now." His accented voice warned him. "This is going to pack quite a kick."

"Punch." Riley corrected him. Where, in the hell, did Peterson pick this guy up at?

Riley shook his head at the man as he moved behind an up-armored Humvee. "I'm mad; because, he could have made quicker work of that door." Riley pointed out.

LaCrosse looked at him irritated; cursing in what Riley supposed was Belgium he handed him the detonator. Glaring at the taller man he yanked it out of his hand glaring at him. Then making the sign of the of the cross; he closed his eyes and pressed the button of the controller.

His chest rumbled as the door exploded off the hinges. Taking a minute to make sure that they both were alive and everything was still attached to them they then looked at the damage that they had caused. Looking at each other they allowed their faces to break into broad smiles.

Climbing over the wreckage of the door, they made their way into the Armory. Paying attention as to not say his boss's real name. "Mr. Green was real specific about taking only the cases of M16s."

"But the M4s are newer." LaCrosse pointed out.

"Just the M16s, he has someone in his back pocket here." Riley shrugged. "I dunno how, the Army is still sending me a bill for a lost sling, and I've been out for ten years. I find it hard to believe that they won't be able to trace the serial numbers."

LaCrosse looked at him and rolled his eyes. "A little help. These crates are heavy either way. Besides think of them being Christmas wrapped," Riley glared at him.

"If Forrester was here, I wouldn't have to be helping you," Riley grumbled. "Nor would Morgan all alone playing guard duty outside."

"You know Forrester is holed up somewhere." LaCrosse shrugged. "Rumor has it some Irish girl escaped the Joe team sting. What was her name?"

"Heather McKinney; Forrester never had a chance with her." Riley shrugged as they made their way to get another case. "Bit of snob; but let me tell you that girl had an ass on her. Dear god; I want to take a bite out of it like an apple."

"So I've heard. Can't wait to take a look at it. So when do you think she'll show back up?" LaCrosse asked.

"Who knows? That girl was a bit touched. Crazy, but they always say that about red heads I bet she's an animal in bed." He said grinning. They both worked to get the box onto the back of the truck. When they turned around they realized a young man in jeans and a t-shirt had a 9mm trained on them.

"STOP" He yelled in a voice that put him barely hitting twenty-one. Before Riley could react the man crumpled at the sound of a sharp crack and Morgan was walking over his unconscious body.

"Sorry, Morgan," Riley mumbled. Morgan was not a man to mess with; his pudgy body belied the sheer strength and mass the man had. Dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt that read 'Don't Tread on Me'. You would never know that he was the CFO of County Line Banks.

"Let's get the hell out of here before the cops show up. We don't know who Captain America alerted." The man said spitting.

"You going to let him live?" LaCrosse said looking at the crumpled body.

"Unlike you Cobras, here at the New Dawn we have respect for our Veterans. Now if he tries anything else." Morgan gave them a toothy grin. "We gave him his warning shot."

LaCrosse watched the two men walk back to the armory to get the next case. Sighing, he looked down at the kid who had begun moaning. "Act dead, Bucko."

The young man touched the back of his head pulling his hand down he swore as he saw blood staining his fingers. LaCrosse reached down and slapped the man's cheeks. "If a pretty, little soldier with green eyes comes asking about what happened here. You tell her, Muskrat."

The kids head listed as he tried to focus on LaCrosse and the man swore. Slapping the kid a few times in his face the Specialists brown eyes finally focused on him. "You got that kid? Muskrat?"

The kid slurred, "Muskrat." Riley and Morgan's voices echoed down the hall a sign they were coming closer; LaCrosse swore.

"Sorry kid this is going to hurt you a helluva lot more than me." With that, he slammed his fist in the kid's face.

* * *

"The ATF at the time has exhausted all leads in the Attack of the Kansas Armory. To date, our biggest suspect is and will remain, New Dawn, a cult-like militia group that has ties to Cobra."

Lady Jaye reread the last statement from the ATF; shaking her head she reached for Snake-Eyes' After Action report from his mission in Europe. Her green eyes skimmed through the bulk of the well-written report. She finally settled on what she was looking for: his conclusions. "Though the mission was successful; it could be the assumed that the New Dawn can and will find other ways to buy weapons. It concerns me that they might go about taking them by using brute force."

Lady Jaye looked back over the list of places that they might attack. Sighing she rubbed her face, flexing her shoulders, she took a long drink of her milk. The intelligence briefing this morning had her reeling. She had seen the attack coming; she had warned them. Why did they not have the proper procedures in place? Did she miss something? The Specialist that had walked in on the robbery was not hurt, thank god; but, the theft of the weapons.

She thought about how this had to be an inside job; someone had to of known of the excess of weapons. What caught her attention as odd, was that the New Dawn went for the M16's, overlooking the newer M4s.

She hated to admit she wasn't as brushed up on the latest tech on modifications for the M16 as she would have liked. The only thing she could think is they went for what was easiest to carry out. Those rifles were already Christmas wrapped for the New Dawn. Whatever the answer was; to find it out, she would have to get her boots on the ground. After her getting pushed out of the last long-term mission; she couldn't imagine Hawk allowing her to go undercover within the New Dawn.

Jaye pulled out another report. Immersing herself in the responding officer's report, she tried to get a better layout of the scene. Half way into the lab's findings of the explosive used on the door; a tray slammed down in front of her. Looking up from her work she realized she had a front row seat to a round of sneezing.

Smiling to herself she watched as the team's executive officer, Dashiell "Flint" Faireborn, collapsed in a chair across from her. Her handsome teammate looked miserable; his nose red and his blue eyes held a tired look. "You do know that there is something called Sick Call."

"Sick call is for the weak." Flint sniffled, rubbing his nose with a Kleenex.

"Your disgusting, Flint." She shook her head at him; he smiled back at her wearing that cheesy grin of his when he was trying to annoy her. She rolled her eyes heavenward taking a bite of her French fry. "No wonder you can't get a date."

"I am doing fine in that department, thank you very much." He looked hurt; the puppy dog expression didn't last long as he went into another round of sneezing. He groaned placing his head in his hands. "I'm dying, Jaye. I bequeath you my collection of Johnny Cash CDs, so you can learn what good music is."

"What, I don't get your books or Veronica?" She couldn't believe that he wouldn't give her his first edition copy of Jayne Eyre.

"No, those I want to be buried with." He grinned. Which turned into a scowl; when Marks, the NCOIC of the DFAC, came over to their table. Jaye couldn't help, but to giggle as the Master Sergeant sprayed the Warrant Officer with Lysol. "Really, Marks?"

The Sergeant Chuckled, "You fight for freedom; I fight to keep you all fed and healthy. If that means spraying your germ-infested body with Lysol, so, you don't get Lady Jaye sick; so be it." To drive home his point; he sprayed the Kleenex Flint had been using. With that, he walked away. Not before passing the pretty covert ops agent a small bottle of hand sanitizer. She smiled up at the battle worn face of the Master Sergeant and received a wink in return.

Flint gave her a double take. "Is there anyone you can't charm?" Before she could respond, he let out another sneeze. She looked at him with worry in her eyes. "All I have is a cold, that past mission I went from desert, to more desert, to being rained on, to more desert, to the arctic, played in a swamp, then to desert again. Oh, and don't forget, I got caught in an avalanche."

"It was a snow drift, not an avalanche." Lady Jaye pointed out. She sighed; stubborn man, he would be on his death bed before he admitted he was sick.

"You weren't in it," Flint took a drink of his tea. She realized he was using the steam to open up his sinuses; slamming the cup down on the table he moaned. "I can't breathe, Lady Jaye."

"Stop being a baby; by the way, thank God I wasn't stuck in there with you." She looked at him trying to forget the look in his eyes when she had saved him from the block of ice. "Because I saved y'all's punk asses."

"Say that again," He looked at her amusement shining in his eyes.

"What?" She often covered up her brogue; it was an easy way for the enemy to identify her. She also knew it caused her to have the attention of others; in a world of Southern Belles, her Gaelic Brogue brought looks and giggles. Why she let her guard down with Flint; she had no clue. To make matters worse, he was always asking her to repeat words for his own amusement. "I saved y'all's punk asses."

"Y'all, it's cute with the brogue." He grinned at her. That caught her by surprise; him saying that he thought how she said something was cute.

Jaye hated to admit the Warrant Officer confused the hell out of her. One minute he was flirting shamelessly with her, the next he was putting on the brakes. She would wonder if she misread his attentions she would back away giving him space; then, he would hunt her down wondering why she wasn't around.

His taking a bite of his lunch brought her attention to the here and now. "What are you eating?" She watched him spear what looked like a piece of lettuce on his fork. Jaye watched in disgust as the excess Ranch Dressing dripped back into the bowl.

"A salad?" She tipped the bowl towards her; the salad looked more like ranch stew to her. He tried to eat healthy, she supposed, but this disgusting concoction. Bits of egg were floating in the creamy substance.

"With a cold?" Jaye knew that her mother had to be rolling in her grave. Isabelle Hart-Burnett was a firm believer in the healing power of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Whatever he was putting in his stomach was not soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

"What's wrong with a salad?" He pulled the bowl out of her hand when he did she watched a crouton swim from one end to the other.

"That's not a salad; that's Ranch dressing with a side of lettuce." She pointed out. "Stay put and don't eat anymore." She went to walk away; but, thought better of it. Turning around and saw him shoveling another forkful in his mouth. She grabbed it from his hands and threw it away in the trash bin.

Walking over to the soup crocks, she scooped up a ladle of chili and doused it with Sriracha. With an expression of disgust; she collected a grilled cheese sandwich from the grill line. Walking back over to the table; she noticed Gung-Ho and Roadblock had joined them.

"Now, Lady Jaye, why don't you ever bring me soup when I feel like crap?" The heavy gunner pouted.

"She does me." The Gunny smiled. "Even brought me a teddy bear once."

"I was twelve; you had been shot." The Marine was a surrogate big brother to her. In the aftermath of her parent's brutal murder; Gung-Ho had been the one sitting with her in the hospital. His booming voice scaring away anyone who would do her harm

Placing the chili in front of Flint; she noticed that Captain Mullany the Bravo Company's Executive Officer was standing over the Warrant Officer. Lady Jaye couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the tall blonde with the body that made every guy stand up and notice.

Even worse Mullany was perfectly manicured. Her sock bun with the off-center part never had flyways, she didn't walk around with bruises or stitches, and her nails were clean. She couldn't help but look down at her own destroyed nails; with rim oil and grease under them, she sighed. "I know the perfect remedy for a cold. Lady Jaye got part of it right, too."

What made Jaye even more irritated was Mullany was a nice person. "So all you need now is a night in with some movies. I tell you what; I have an extensive collection of 80's treasures. The Breakfast Club always makes me feel better. What do you say? Add a little Scotch to clear the sinuses up?"

Flint looked up and smiled a grin that he never gave her. This charming lopsided creation that cinched in Jaye's mind that she was reading way too much into their relationship. "Sorry Mullany," He shrugged looking over at her. "Lady Jaye promised to take me tonight to some place called Roswell. But swears there was no alien crash there."

"I was going to take him to Swallow. You're welcome to come." She added lamely.

The Captain looked at Jaye quizzically; her face broke out into a big grin. "I think in this case; three's a crowd. I'm sorry, Jaye, really I had no clue."

"No clue?" She looked at the pretty blonde which caused her, even more, confusion. The Captain smiled at her shaking her head. Then walking back to the table she had been having lunch with the other female officers of Bravo Company. Jaye watched her say something to a pretty Lieutenant named Jenkins they all smiled then nodded her direction and went back to their lunch.

Turning she looked at Flint, who was watching her with a blinking expression of disbelief. "Why did you not ask her on a date?" Jaye hissed, "For some reason, she actually wants to go out with you."

All three men looked at her; mouths opened shaking their heads. She was sure Flint was hiding a smile. But he didn't elaborate; strangely, she felt like she had walked into a joke and she was the punchline. With a sigh; she pushed the plate towards him. It was hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. "Here, never think I don't love you. Because I hate grill cheese."

He took a bite, his eyes watered from the spice of the doctored chili. As Flint chewed; he watched her thoughtfully. "Who doesn't like grilled cheese?"

"I don't." Her green eyes narrowed, telling him to drop the subject. Leave it to Flint to not do subtle.

"That makes no sense; you had two orders of cheese fries extra cheese last night." His brows creased she knew he was thinking of all the other times she had jumped on the myriad of food options that have the 'golden goodness' as she called the milk divertive.

"I don't," On instinct, she reached up rubbing the raised scar on the back of her neck. The two of them had one unspoken rule: Flint didn't talk about the painful looking scars on his back; she didn't talk about the scar on her neck.

Her last memories of that day were the man in the mask lowering his gun. She had thought that she could of jump between her father and the man. She remembered hearing the shot, her father jerking her roughly, then darkness. She woke covered in blood; her little brother in his high chair unscathed. The dead bodies around, but, none of them were her parents; then there was the smell of grilled cheese burning on the stove top.

Dropping the subject of grilled cheese; he pulled what she was working on closer to him. Taking another bite of chili; he read through her notes. "Shouldn't you wait till I get my report finished?" She tried to grab the paper; but, he pulled it closer to him and slapped her hand.

"Saves you the trouble." He shrugged back to work on her report, writing notes on hers with his big block handwriting. Taking a bite of grilled cheese, he looked back at her. "We told Oklahoma and Kansas to be on alert. Thank God the Specialist was only knocked out."

She sighed pulling out her original report and read through it again. "Maybe something was lost in translation?"

He handed his copy of her report to her. He had impressed her with his questions in the briefing two days ago she saw why. Like he had done with the pilfered notes there were similar notes on the margins of this report.

But something else caught her attention; he had added commas, semi-colons and he had even rewritten a sentence. "Did you grade my report?" She looked at him her mouth agape. He pulled it out of her hands and looked through it again.

"Lady Jaye, you might not have mentioned National Guard Armories; but, your statement: 'All areas with major arms stockpiles should be guarded; especially, those close to New Dawn's headquarters in Oklahoma and the Smokey Mountains'. Kind of speaks for itself." He blinked at her driving home the point that she had done her job; there was nothing murky about her report. It had been up to those in command to take her report seriously, which he, Duke and Hawk had. "The Grammar on the other hand. How the hell did you graduate College not to mention get your masters?"

"My grammar is fine," She went to grab his copy; but, he stuffed it back in his backpack.

"Do me a favor, when you go to write your dissertation, please, have me look over it." He quipped.

She growled in her throat, "What's wrong with my grammar?"

"The run-on sentences? Dangling prepositions?" He listed off on his fingers. "Oh, not to mention your spelling is horrendous.

"I used spell check!" She swore; looking at her report trying to understand what he was talking about. She caught the smile on his face; she shook her fist. He had been picking on her. "I hate you."

Before she could comment; Duke was taking a seat next to Flint. "Okay, you two. I got a mission for you, let me grab a tray; then, met me in the ready room. Flint, you are going to love this."

Flint looked at her for clarification. "I'm really not, am I?" She stayed quiet, but, mouthed, 'No you're not'.

A/N


	2. Chapter 2

_As you know my story doesn't go in original release date of the cartoons... Oh yeah fair warning Ninja's extremely athletic, great practitioners of the Martial Arts, but they are not mystical warriors if you want that, read the comic books, watch 80's movies. Trying to think what else I do that goes off script that might make people mad... oh alot. Sorry this is my world, this is how I see things. Fair warning you don't like my Snake Eyes in this your really not going to like him in Intro to a Theme._

 _I know things are going slow lately... new Job and yes I have a lot of reading to catch up on you guys have given me a lot problem is I no longer have any down time hopefully I have a vacation coming up.. Oh I don't. Oh I have even more things going on.. FML FML FML._

 _Read, Enjoy, know that flames will be met with Molotov Cocktails. ;)_

Staff Sergeant Wayne Sneedon walked into the PIT shaking his head at the video monitor; on the screen was the latest attack Cobra had tried to pull on the people of the world. "A weather dominator? A weather dominator? What are they going to do for an encore bring back dinosaurs?"

"It is feasible, I mean, with today's DNA research and the advent of Dolly. If viable Dinosaur DNA is found, it is possible to clone them," Airtight explained. "Which would be AWESOME!"

Beachhead stopped in front of the door to his office and shook his head. The door once read, "Mortuary Affairs", but, someone had taken masking tape covering those words writing in big, bold, block letters "The Spooky People". Two names under the sign were subject to the masking tape treatment: CPT Michael "Cerebrus" Jacobs, OIC. Under his name, someone had covered the name and codename off the NCOIC, SFC Tommy "Stormshadow" Arashikage, and written Traitor.

Below Traitor was SSGT Wayne "Beachhead" Sneedon, and below his name was a myriad of duct tape was SGT. Alison "Lady Jaye" Hart-Burnett. He smiled, glad to see the Specialist had gotten her Sergeant stripe since he was gone. But damn, Cerebrus was going to be missed.

He stopped, looking at the sign that had hung below the names since Lady Jaye had set up shop in the offices there. "DO NOT PUT LEAVE REQUESTS ON LADY J.'s DESK. GIVE THEM TO LT. BELVINS. ALL WEAPONS IN NEEDING OF REPAIRED WILL GOTO THE ARMORY."

He stopped, pulled the sign down, and examined the posting. There was writing on the sign, in red ink; it looked like Lady Jaye's grammar had been corrected. At the top of the page was a big letter C. What the hell had he missed while on medical leave?

"Good, Beach, you're back. On my six," Duke walked past him carrying a Styrofoam container from the DFAC. "You are going to love this."

Beachhead found himself groaning. This was Duke's comment when he knew you were going to hate something with such a passion you were going to want to poke your eye out with, well, a hot poker.

He followed the First Sergeant up to the catwalk that circled the command floor; this was where the command staff's offices and smaller briefing rooms were. "Jaye get her –" Before the Ranger could finish his question about Lady Jaye getting promoted Hawk's voice boomed out of the Ready room. Both men shared a confused look; they could have sworn the General was in Washington.

Realization dawned on them at the same time. "Lady Jaye," Duke growled.

Beachhead followed Duke into the ready room to see, sitting on a table top, cross-legged, hands waving, was the team's covert-ops specialist. Though her lips were moving and the noise was coming out of her mouth it was not her smoke and whiskey voice, what emanated from her vocal cords was that of their Commanding Officer General Clayton "Hawk" Abernathy.

"JAYE!" Duke barked. "Quit screwing around."

Jaye looked over her shoulder smiling sweetly, "Sure thing, Top." Yet again, it wasn't her voice, but the First Sergeant's echoing back at him.

"Tell me why I put up with your crap?" Duke sighed opening the container of food and scowling at the contents.

Closing the lid of the container back, he sighed. Snake-Eye's hands moved quickly, and Duke seemed to have a hard time keeping up with what the Joe was saying. "Slow down Snake-Eyes; I'm catching on, but not that fast."

"He said that you put up with her crap, because, she knows where you buried the bodies." Beachhead turned at the sound of a familiar voice.

Beachhead took in the dark-haired man standing next to Lady Jaye. He was average height, with bright blue eyes and hair that though shorn on the sides, the top was barely meeting the length regulations.

His eyes held a watchfulness that spoke of intelligence; though he had smile lines around the corner of his eyes, he seemed more comfortable with his mouth drawn down in a frown. Like most members of the Joe team, he had forsaken the ACUs wearing a pair of old school Battle Dress Uniform pants with a black shirt and old school black, spit-shined jump boots. He had on a bandolier with a myriad of colored shells inserted. The red and green casings he knew, but, Beachhead wondered what purple and black were.

On the man's head was a faded black beret. This beret was earned in the seventies by a bright-eyed Ranger named Jason Faireborn. He wondered if the jump boots were also a nod to that same soldier who was long retired, living his life out on a small cattle ranch and horse farm in Kansas.

The son, standing in front of Beachhead now, knew his worth; this man wasn't going to apologize for his knowledge. The NCO felt, as the man sized him up, that he knew every one of his flaws, and he would have no issue with telling him what they were with brutal honesty.

Beachhead deserved that, after how he treated Dashiell. He had crossed a line, called the man's skin tone, his biological father. If his father had heard what he had said; the old man would have taken his ass, grown adult or not, behind the woodshed and beat him good.

This man was a far cry from the goof-ball, twenty-one-year-old Dashiell Faireborn that Beachhead had met so long ago. A kid who wanted to be a teacher, play pro-ball, and find the perfect girl. An outgoing Kansas farmboy and proud of it; he wore his High School Rodeo Champion belt with pride and his beat up Silverado had a sticker of the American Flag on the back window. Beachhead had told Dash that he was a worthless Injun who had no clue what it was like to be a man, having lived his pampered life.

But, those words and those actions he couldn't take back; he knew the kids past, and everything that kid had gone to overcome. Still, he said those words which put him on a course where his pride wouldn't let him stray, even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. So he looked up and snarled. "Dash Faireborn last time I saw you I was teaching you some manners at Starlight Station."

Flint smiled at him, this cruel twisting of a smile that chilled Beachhead to the bone. "Looks like the hair on your eyebrow never quite grew back did it?"

Lady Jaye was already up, standing between the two of them. She surveyed the scene with a look that was a mixture of curiosity and worry. Dash took a step closer towards Beachhead, Jaye held her hand out her hand touched the brown haired man's chest. For a second, Beachhead had images of a mouse standing up to a lion.

Flint captured Jaye's wrist in his hand; he held it there on his chest. "Frosty, Lady Jaye, just frosty."

The tension is his body left him, his eyes soften, as did the frown. For a brief second, that goofball kid was there at the surface, shimmering. Flint quickly shoved him aside, and tilted his head back in Beachhead's direction. Flint opened his mouth to say something, but Duke interrupted them.

"I see you two know each other," Duke said, watching the scene. Whatever issues the two men had with each other was of little interest to the First Sergeant. What had interested him was the interaction between Flint and Lady Jaye. "That's right, a lot has happened since you were used for target practice by Cobra. This is our new XO, Mr. Dashiell Faireborn, code name, Flint."

In the Army, the Warrant Officer is a strange creature. Wild Bill had tried to explain the rank, once. Ace, with eyes glazed over after the instruction said, "Basically, Warrant's are the unicorns of the Military." The Texan had glowered at them, shook his head and walked away.

What Beachhead took away from the one-hour block of instruction was: addressing an Officer by Mr., Mrs., Miss or Ms. was an insult; yet, that was how you were supposed to address a Warrant Officer. After that Wild Bill lost him with Company grade commission and Congressional commission; Bill did show them a picture of a pug dressed like Yoda, he loved that picture.

Cringing inwardly at the thought how the hell did this happen Faireborn outranked him, he didn't even know the kid was in the Army. He had heard rumblings about some superstar Ranger pulling off Rescue missions and hostage situations that nobody else could. He never thought in a million years that this was the same Faireborn.

He was about to ask Mr. Faireborn if he couldn't cut it was as a real officer, when Duke spoke up. "Hate to do this on short notice, but, Jaye, brief these yahoos on the weapons theft last night at the Kansas Armory.

The Sergeant nodded and scrambled to gathering her notes. "Hooah, Top."

Lady Jaye set down her reports. Beachhead noticed, in her usual fashion, her papers were all neatly organized with post-it notes and paper clips. She opened her mouth and Duke stopped her. "In your 'own' voice."

Jaye blinked up at Duke, on her face was an expression that spoke, "I would never do something like that." He returned the look with one that said, "I don't believe that for a second.""

Knowing that she probably would have done some crazy impersonation while at the podium she looked down at her papers. Then her smile turned to a frown and a look of panic. Everyone in that room knew she was missing one of her papers. Her expression was that of a Joe about to go into a tailspin.

Beachhead wasn't the only one in the room that realized the unflappable Scotswoman was about to have a breakdown. Flint went to her rescue, and, after rifling through his own papers, he fished out his copy, and put it in front of her.

A look of relief crossed her face; this is her first big mission as an NCO, she wanted to prove she deserved that Sergeant stripe. Truth be told, there was no concern in Beachheads mind about her doing a good job. As silly, impetuous, and downright touched as Lady Jaye was, she was a damn good Joe. She might be the first in garrison to blow off steam with her crazy antics; in the field, where it counted, she was the epitome of professionalism for someone so young.

Besides, he remembered his first big briefing, how he couldn't stop saying 'ya'll' and 'um'. through the whole damn thing, and when he was talking about Mosul, he meant Basra. Thankfully his teammates gave him some slack and the mission (in Basra) went off without a hitch. He might be a hard nose, but he understood that your first time up there was nerve racking, and for Jaye doubly so. She wasn't looking at regular 'Joes' she was looking at GI Joes.

She glanced down at the paper; her brow furrowed deeper at whatever caught her attention on his copy. "I deserved an A." Beachhead realized he had walked into a private joke that everyone knew but him.

"B-plus, maybe. Next time cite your research." She looked at Flint open mouthed. His frown pulled into a slight smile. Beachhead realized that the Warrant Officer was pulling her pigtails. "Now get back to the briefing. We're all getting gray hairs, here."

"Well, Chief, thanks to your little show two days ago we all know about your gray hair." She quipped back.

Beachhead had to hide a smile; he had no clue what she was talking about, but she had put Flint in his place. The Warrant Officer might be pulling her pigtails, but Lady Jaye was going to be the girl that punches him right back.

"Well, I had to show off for the ladies." Flint shrugged.

"Whoa, what Ladies?" Roadblock asked. "I mean; the room was filled up with Sailors from the USS Flagg."

"You rest my case." Flint looked back at Jaye.

"Wow, I do have to say it was impressive." She smiled. Everyone in the room knew that smile she was going in for the kill.

"Never had a complaint." Flint looked at her a heated look that made Beachhead want to ask if he wanted to get a room.

"Oh, you thought I was talking about little Flint... no sweetheart, I was talking about your Ego." She smiled sweetly

He nodded, saluting her. As irreverent as the exchange was and how Beachhead would not have let it happen, he also knew that it served a purpose; it put Jaye's head back in the game. It made her see that her tailspin was not necessary. It also told him that, though Flint was ready to rip his head off, at a given time the history between them was not forgotten, but was pushed back into another container in the chief's head.

Duke watched the whole exchange, shaking his head he motioned for Jaye to continue. Tapping the papers, she gave him a black look and then turned mega-watt smile on Flint, who nodded her victory. "Last night an Armory for the Kansas National Guard was broken into. The thieves stole about fifty M16's."

"A guard interrupted the scene, he did engage with the thieves. Thankfully, he was not hurt badly." She nodded to Duke who pulled up security footage. "We were only able to positively ID one man."

Snake Eyes hands moved quickly. "Unfortunately, no, not a member of Cobra or New Dawn." She responded.

She enlarged the picture on one man. "This is Thrasher; he is a member of the European Motorcycle group the Can-Cans, a feeder group to the Dreadnocks."

"He is fairly new to the group, came on the scene about a month ago," Jaye pulled up a mug shot. "He is known for a string of robberies to local businesses, domestic violence and putting the most Jolly Ranchers in his mouth at last year's Easter Egg hunt."

Snake Eyes hands moved again; everyone blinked at him. Once the ninja finished, Duke rolled his eyes heavenward. "I don't even want to know how you think he cheated,"

Putting his sandwich down, he continued to give Snake Eyes a strange look but addressed the group. "Look, this is the hitch of things, for Mayhem's mission to work he is the enemy; we can't pull our punches on him. It sucks, I know, but for all intents and purposes, he is a bad guy. To out him, could get him killed. He will pass the information along if he can. He does have an extraction phrase: I ate my belly button lint as a child. "

Beachhead was about to ask whose bright idea that it was to give him that phrase but Lady Jaye's cheesing told him that she had something to say about her twin brother's involvement in this mission.

"So why the M16's, not the M4s?" Flint asked.

Beachhead realized Flint knew the answer. He wanted Jaye to have time to show off her strengths. The Warrant Officer was going to let them shine, as Executive Officer of the Joe team, one of his main focuses was on cultivating the Junior Non-Commissioned Officer's into better NCO's. Lady Jaye was the team's best, and pushing her to her limit was the right thing to do. But, Beachhead couldn't help but wonder if there was more than him just making Jaye into a better NCO.

"I know that many soldiers still prefer the M16 for their accuracy." Her answers were hesitant at first, but, Roadblock gave her a slight nod. "Though heavier, there are more accessories and mod kits for the M16 on the consumer market. Also, considering these weapons were slated for destruction, there is a good possibility that it was an inside job. I would need one of the weapons in front of me to confirm that."

"So, if they filed off the serial numbers?" Beachhead wondered out loud. In the army, the numbers etched on the side of your weapon was how tracked your rifle. Every soldier in his platoon knew theirs by heart. He made sure of it.

Jaye smiled at him, looking down at the laptop in front of her she pulled up a video from her cloud. Everyone in the room winced silently, wondering how this was going to end up. Technology was not Jaye's friend. She clicked once, nothing happened. Then with frustration, she clicked the arrow over and over.

Duke grabbed her hands, "Jaye, give it a second." Then a myriad of windows popped up on the screen behind her. The room erupted into laughter, for which they received the stink eye from the small Scottish woman. Duke let go of her hands; he went through the process of closing the multiple screens. She reached over, trying to help him, but he slapped her hand away. "No, bad puppy."

Finally, with only one screen Duke pressed the play button. "Continue," he told her, but watched her very carefully.

"The FBI has come up with techniques to salvage those. In some cases, they have recovered full numbers. Though, with even partial numbers we can get closer to figuring out 'why these particular rifles?'." The video was showing the lab techs at Quantico doing just that. She closed the video and looked at them. "It's a safe assumption that they took these because they were ready for shipment. Remember, gentlemen, our main priority is finding out if this is an inside job."

"Scarlett will be your Pit Master," Duke interrupted. "She is finishing up briefing the President on our Space Launch next month, but she will be back here at HQ before you all hit Wichita. Lady Jaye your lead intelligence, let's see if you can repeat your success against Zartan and Storm Shadow at the UN terrorist repository. The ATF is acknowledging the fact that we did warn them, along with the Kansas Guard, why they didn't act is irrelevant. What is not, they are asking for our help."

Duke punched a few things on the wireless keyboard; he gave a nod to Lady Jaye that spoke 'This is how you work a computer' look. "It seems we weren't the only ones that warned the ATF. This, boys and Lady, is Udall, Kansas. The population of 738, this is small town America at its finest. Home of the Udall Eagles and Ohio State Quarterback and Joe team's own..."

The team erupted into laughter as there was a younger Flint smiling with long hair in an Ohio State Football Jersey. Another picture of Flint on the back of a convertible on what looked like a parade. "His Ohio state victory got him a spot in the homecoming parade, but he is most known for this parade." There was him on a black Arabian, cowboy boots, and a Cowboy hat, nothing else.

Lady Jaye blinked at him. "You have issues, Chief."

The frown broke into a grin only for her. "I know, but they like to swing free Lady Jaye."

Sometimes you just don't have a comeback for things; his admission of the desire to let his manly parts be free had Jaye standing there looking at him like he lost his mind. It was unclear to Beachhead who won that round, but, what was for sure, Flint had done something not many people could claim the honor of doing: left Lady Jaye at a loss for words.

The small brunette picked up her papers; tapping them on the table, she never took her eyes off the warrant officer. If her expression was that of irritated disbelief, Flint's grin hid a myriad of warring emotions hidden behind his eyes. The XO realized that others were looking at him and, in a flash, that frown in which he seemed more comfortable was slammed back into place.

Duke had watched the whole scene with mild interest, so it looked. Beachhead knew that meant the First Sergeant was extremely interested in what was going on between the two of them. "Udall's local sheriff contacted the ATF and took pictures of…"

"Tomax and Xamot," Roadblock finished.

Jaye reached up to her hair. "Well, now we can tell them apart."

Beachhead looked at the picture; he had missed something while he was gone. There on one of the identical twins was a jagged scar that ran from the bottom of his ear to almost the corner of his mouth. "I owe that person a beer."

"Guinness, please." Jaye gave an almost haunted look, and it was clear that the twin terrorists were the cause. But she covered her expression quickly putting on her tough girl act.

Beachhead shook his head; yeah, there was a reason she was one of the few Joes he liked. "Seems that they are helping the New Dawn in a lease agreement. Meet Malcolm Priest: He has the biggest farm in the area and is known to lease out tracks of land for a fair price. He leased out to Corey Green thinking the kid wanted to get away from the city and raise his family on a Kansas farm." Duke explained

"Well meet the Green family. "Jaye pulled up a picture with no complications and smiled with pride at her achievement.

"Guys this area is peaceful; ninety-five percent of the population are farmers more worried about getting crops out," Duke explained. "Udall is small town America, not the Streets of Mosul. We plan on keeping it that way."

"Remember we are being invited on t this mission. ACT ACCORDINGLY BEACH!" Duke gave them all the 'I mean business look.' "Sam's Club ran a sale on toothbrushes last weekend; I picked up about a hundred of them. GOT THAT?"

"Hooah, Top." They all turned looking at Beachhead. He stared at them with confusion on his face.

"That means don't act like you, Beach. I, for one, do not want to clean the woman's locker rooms again." Spirit glared at Lady Jaye. "You women are nasty."

She smiled at the Navajo man, his dry sense of humor took some getting used to, even by Beachhead. "You are right. Trust me, you should see Cover Girls desk in the motor pool. I think we need to call a hazmat team to clean it up."

"Flight line in forty minutes." Flint barked at them.

Beachhead walked out and almost ran over a short, Scottish woman who was very angry. "What the hell was that? We've talked about you making good relationships between you and your fellow teammates."

"Lady Jaye," He gave her a warning glance.

She stood in front of him; she was adorable with arms akimbo, head cocked. "I mean you're an asshole, but that took new heights." She growled at him.

"Jaye, that Sergeant stripe is going to your head." He glared at her. She blinked back at him. The truth was she was the only one who could get away with calling him out on his shit.

It was often misconceived that he had romantic feelings for the girl. Not that she wasn't beautiful, she just wasn't his type. He wouldn't throw her out of his bed; hell, with enough alcohol he might even invite her to his bed. There was just something missing for him, what he couldn't quite place; the girl was intelligent, sweet, gorgeous, and she had balls. But the desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless just wasn't there.

"One rank, buddy." She held up her finger. "If you want to drop me, you gotta get down with me. You know the rules."

He glared at her; Jaye's green eyes stared back, she knew something was up between him and Faireborn. He hated that accusing look she was giving him.

"He's Marissa's brother," Her face looked at him with surprise. "He didn't tell you that?"

"I knew he had a sister who died in the Twelve Cities attack." She pulled out a pack of Big Red Gum and offered him a piece. He waved off her offering and watched her unwrap a stick. Chewing on it thoughtfully, she finally spoke. "I just never put two and two together."

"What, that I was her fiancée?" That made him angry; how could Flint not think to mention that? How, when Marissa died she was about to be married?

"I don't think he knew you were a member of the team, Battle." She looked at him, shaking her head. "I knew she was going to be married, he told me that. He mentioned that he and the fiancée got into blows, but, he never told me his name."

To Beachhead's dismay, Flint wasn't being sneaky or telling half-truths. Something told him that the Warrant Officer was still honest, to a fault. "It was easier, when I could order you around." He growled wanting to end this conversation.

"I'm just saying, for my sake, be good." She thought she was conveying the need for them to be on the P's and Q's worried that if they were fighting it might affect the mission. Beachhead knew there was another meaning in her comment, one he was sure she didn't realize herself. If it came down to him or Flint, she was going to back Flint.

He wasn't about to point out the obvious, so, he went for the semi-obvious. "You put too much stock in our friendship. With you gone I would have the fastest run time on post."

"Just know, if I get killed, the Tomahawk will come down on you. I am his favorite," she said smugly.

"What about Scarlett?" Beachhead pointed out.

"She's General Colton's favorite," Lady Jaye shrugged.

"Then whose Colonel Flagg's?" Beachhead was so confused with this conversation. He realized Lady Jaye distracting him from Flint's black glare.

"Dusty," Jaye shrugged. "Everyone likes Dusty. It's sickening."

"Okay, I promise not to get you killed," Beachhead growled.

"That's all I ask. I would hate to see you going to Ft. Hood to clean out Bertha," Jaye shrugged, smiling.

"You wouldn't," Beachhead's eyes got wide.

"Already cleared with Duke. You or Flint show your ass," she smiled that devious smile of hers, "You both will experience tough love, cleaning out Bertha. By the way, we made some new advancements on it, and you know frozen chickens are Roadblocks choice of practice ammunition."

With that, she winked, and walked away yelling "Chief hold up, got to talk to you!"


	3. Chapter 3

8 years ago

Dashiell Faireborn took a seat at the long bar in the night club called Starlight Station. He could not shake the disheartening feeling he had after his meeting at a small bar and grill a few miles up the road. He wanted, at this point, to get the hell out of Killeen, Texas, and back to Kansas.

His sister Jessie had been right; they should have mailed the box to Wayne. But Dash had felt it was important to deliver it to him. He wanted to cement how important Sneedon had been to Marissa. No matter what, the Soldier had a place in their family. He supposed the saying was right; no good deed goes unpunished.

As he settled himself on the barstool, the small bartender gave him an appraising look. He smiled back at her and nodded, she gave shy smile and placed a napkin in front of him.

Standing shy of five four, she had a face that looked like she was quick to smile. With deep coco brown eyes that shown with intelligence, she was exactly his type, so he ran the other way. Guys with his past did not need to settle down; it was too dangerous. Who knew what the outcome would be?

"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders." She said in a accented voice, lyrical and his toes curled; he loved an accent on a girl.

Dash let out a sarcastic laugh "I feel it today."

She poured whiskey over ice. "This one on me, though with that look in your eyes I would leave after that." She smiled. "If you do stay, take it easy. With that look you can get lost in yourself real quick."

He nodded his understanding and then took a sip letting the fire of the liquid hit his throat. He would love to say that at twenty-two he was new to this drinking business. Dash had grown up in a small town; everything shut down after eight a night. So he hated to say he was no stranger to back road parties with Red Solo cups and a little smoke.

The Bartender squeezed his hand and walked off to help another customer with a high and tight who nodded at him. Dash nodded back, he might not look like the military boys that flocked to the club. Running a hand through his shoulder-length hair, he sighed. looking at his reflection. He wore a blue button-up shirt with his best boot cut jeans (the ones with out the Skoal ring on the back pocket). One of his Justin's settled on the top rung of the bar stool; in front of him sat his Ohio state baseball hat, complete with his lucky fishing hook.

He took another slow drink, it wasn't top shelf whiskey, but the amber liquid help relaxed him, easing his frustration. Memories of this past hour played out in his head. He hated that, yet again, Jessie had been right.

Sneedon, in fact, did not appreciate having the items that Emily Faireborn, Dash's mother, carefully selected for the solider. The Sergeant had turned his nose up at the items; snarling at the sight of them. His action caused Dash to wonder if the ranger had loved his sister.

"I thought I told you to take that half-breed ass of yours home, boy." Sneedon's thick southern accent broke through Dash's thoughts.

Faireborn couldn't help but groan. He didn't have to look at the taller man, his tone of voice he knew that Wayne was looking to fight. The Bartender having heard the comment, sneered at Sneedon. Walking away she shook her head mumbling about racist bastards.

Dash didn't bother to move, Sneedon walked closer to him growling. The Soldier might be taller, but Faireborn had thirty more pounds of muscle on the Alabama son.

"I am finishing this drink and going home to Kansas." Dash nodded. "Don't you worry; all memories of Marissa can be conveniently wiped from your mind."

Dash turned to sit back down, but Sneedon stopped him. "Now you little…" Even now the callous words, full of hate, still played in his mind.

What followed had him in jail over the weekend. His father had been waiting for him when they released him on Monday. Unlike the kid in front of him who was begging the police to take him back, Dash's dad had nodded hugged him. His father then had looked at him sternly saying, "I know that I taught you differently, but the officers told me what Sneedon said. There is no excuse, I would have done worse. At least you're not in a Mexican jail like your sister Aubrey was." With that, his dad put on his Stetson and they walked out into the sunshine.

Sneedon, in the end, didn't press charges. The DA office decided to see if both men would do the right thing before they got involved. Dash made a deal with the owner of the club to pay half of the damages, and for him, the matter was closed.

Life went on, three weeks later he joined the Army himself. He had hoped that there he would find peace. Even if the odds of him finding himself looking down the barrel at a Cobra were low. He still worked, like he did with everything, to be the best soldier he could be.

A year into his army service, rumor mill came around that Sneedon had gotten hemmed up in a series of events. It seemed that since having words with Dash in Starlight Station that his career took a downward spiral. Though the details were a little fuzzy, Faireborn figured that there was more myth, than truth, to the story.

The saddest part of the story; Dash and his dad decided not to tell his mother, that Sneedon had rejected the items. So, Flint was the caretaker of the box. Hidden at the end of his bed in his tough box under a collection of vinyl that was not in his heavy rotation was the box. The damn thing had gone from all his duty posts since AIT. He was an optimist that one day Wayne might ask for it.

It was never about the name calling, for Dash, it was how Marissa seemed so disposable to the Ranger. Dash carried that thought with him, his father had promised him that the feeling of betrayal would fade, he would understand Wayne a little more. Strangely as of late, especially, when he looked over at the small brunet who, at the moment, was placing an orange gummy bear on the edge of a napping Snake Eyes' visor, it was even harder to fathom.

He chuckled to himself, remembering his reaction to that damn gray hair. True, he had no issues with nudity. He did wonder, though, if he went a little overboard standing stark naked in the Day Room fussing at Lady Jaye. Didn't anyone understand how terrified he had been?

Flint would love to pretend like last week never happened, but, the pounding sinus headache wasn't allowing him. It had started as a simple mission, a convoy from the Rocky Mountain Research lab to North Fort Hood. The goal was to transport an experimental energy source to power a guidance laser that was being developed by NASA.

The mission had started out strong; Flint had even gotten Lady Jaye to not rush ahead to the vehicles during his safety briefing. The fact was, as he shouted out safety concerns such as pot holes, he held on to her belt. Sure when he got to scorpions, he had to pull on it to keep her in place; what counted, he got her through an entire safety briefing with out running head long into trouble.

Halfway through the mission, once they hit Texas, Cobra attacked. There was something about watching Lady Jaye be the one to take down Cobra Commander. While they had Cobra Commander, Cobra had Duke and Snake Eyes. Then came an adventure full of killer vines, earthquakes, sandstorms, screwy weather and well the worst case of foot-to-mouth disease ever.

He still groaned when he replayed saying. "Thanks, that means a lot… Knowing that your buddies miss you, I mean." The minute that came out of his mouth he regretted it especially that look in Jaye's pretty green eyes.

To add injury to insult, he had tried to smooth things over with her by going to Tikal, an impressive Aztec Ruin in Guatemala, with her. Lady Jaye took it as he though she couldn't lead a mission. Honestly, he wanted to spend time with her, he had faith that she could knock the mission out of the park.

Looking back, the whole reason that she took Gung-Ho and Shipwreck into the temple to locate and recover the missing piece of the weather dominator was to prove to him that she was as capable as he was. She still thought she had to show to him she was a Ranger.

As the trio made their escape, the Warrant Officer had watched in horror as Major Blood took the advantage. The Cobra operative opened fire on his teammates. The bad guys had his soldiers pinned down; his frustration mounted, he tried to move the rest of the Squad to help Lady Jaye, Gung - ho and Shipwreck. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get an opening.

Then the earthquake hit, Flint had watched in horror as Lady Jaye, Gung Ho and Shipwreck got swallowed up by the earth. Thank god, they had landed on a small ledge; he felt like he was having a heart attack, when the pain did subside he had her in his arms. True, it was under the disguise of steadying her on her feet, he might be able to admit to himself that he had feelings; but to act on them? Not yet, he couldn't; he wasn't ready.

His fear: that his biological father's DNA might override the Fairborn's lessons on love. What would happen, if one night, he drank a little too much? What if the anger that his biological father taught and Card cultivated, took control of him? What if he took that anger out on her?

Oh, he wasn't an idiot, that girl could kick his ass; but, to have her look at him differently. To lose the look of trust she gave him that would destroy him. Worse to watch it morph and turn to hate or fear. He couldn't handle that.

Especially with that impish grin cross her lips. Looking over at him she winked and held a finger up to her lips. From her belt, she unclipped her cell phone and went to take the picture. Flint chuckled as he watched the Ninja pick the gummy bear off his visor. With deadly accuracy, the man in black threw the offending object to have it settle between Lady Jaye's eyes.

Lady Jaye green eyes, now covered by brown contacts, got wide. Flint chuckled at her expression; she couldn't believe that the Ninja would dare throw the sugary snack back at her. "You didn't," she hissed.

The ninja leaned back into his seat making a sign using his middle finger that needed no interpretation. "I thought a Ninja would be above the use such language." She smiled at him.

The same finger of Snake Eyes' other hand joined in.

Flint shook his head and felt Lady Jaye pull his spit bottle out of his cargo pant to dispose of the orange sticky goo. She looked at him with a disgusted look. "This is why you can't keep a girlfriend. Nobody wants to kiss someone who does this."

He glared at her. "Better me do this and be happy. Then you all dealing with me being all mean when I try to stop."

"That's your happy face?" Spirit asked shaking his head. "I really would hate to see you angry."

"He gets naked for that" Snake Eyes signed.

Flint glared at Snake Eyes, he knew under the mask the ninja had a smug expression on his face.

Flint shook his head turning back to Lady Jaye. "What do we know?"

"Mayhem's last two check-ins had him moving from Paris then to New York, from his last one he stated that he was on the move again to Kansas City." Lady Jaye glanced down at the green book that many used to keep track of daily notes. Most of it was written in her bubbly handwriting with things like: fix spring in Alpines M-16, follow up on Thunder's leave request, and pick up baking soda and vinegar for Jack's science project. "There is chatter about someone in one of the Militia's pulling incapable men, with the ability to blow things up. Specifically, Navy SEALS and other Military counterparts."

"Like the Twelve City bombings?" Beachhead asked. "That was the MO Cobra used. Biker gangs to place and deliver the bombs, then, in some cities like London, followed up with Air Raids."

"Mayhem is still putting the intel together." Lady Jaye was explaining "He can't figure out the target. His contact is keeping things very compartmentalized."

"Smart," Roadblock said, "You see gangs in inner cities doing that with their operations. That way if someone gets arrested they don't have anything to give but a small fraction of the plan."

"So, what's your game plan?" Flint asked her.

"Two prongs: Beachhead, Roadblock you two are going to the Armory. Colonel Weiss is waiting for you. Question the men find out what we know about every person there. The rest of us will go to Udall." Jaye said, "The Sheriff and the Chief of Police are waiting for us."

"What about the ATF?" Roadblock asked.

"They have an unrelated project they are working on in Missouri, tonight," Jaye said looking at her notes. "They will meet us tomorrow at our hotel, after their bust."

"How can we be sure it's unrelated?" Spirit asked. All too often, infighting between agencies caused information to be held back.

"Soccer mom is smuggling cartons of cigarettes onto the reservation. She's selling them out of her van." Lady Jaye explained. "Not exactly in the New Dawn's wheelhouse, or I would hope not."

"It's not" Snake Eyes signed.

"Good Work, Lady Jaye," Flint said looking down at his notes.

"If this was my..." Beachhead began, Flint couldn't help but sigh.

"It's not, Beachhead!" They all cut him off.

"I'm just saying I could do a lot of good in Udall, Jaye doesn't exactly scream country." Beachhead motioned toward her.

"What does that mean?" Lady Jaye asked, the voice coming out of her mouth was Scarlett's. "I think I can blend into a small town in the Midwest fine. Besides, Beach. I ride a horse better than you."

"Horse?" Beachhead looked at her strangely.

"The back forty of the Green property; we can get to it unnoticed on horseback," Flint explained. "I'm sure that also had something to do with Jaye's decision. Roadblock can't ride very well, and though Snakes is accomplished on horseback, Spirit is better."

"Sheriff Emily Faireborn is real nice." Lady Jaye said brightly. She Offered up a handful of gummy bears. Her eyes never leaving Beachhead's, Flint picked out the orange ones from her hand as did Snake Eyes and Roadblock. She did give Spirit a green one and then with no one was paying attention, he watched her shyly give him a red bear, his favorite. "But I'm all for trading with you, if you want, Beach."

Beachhead glowered. "No, I'll go to the armory."

Lady Jaye chuckled. Flint realized she knew all along who she was talking to when she had her phone calls with Emily. He almost wanted to ask if they enjoyed their conversation, but thought better of asking what secrets his mother had told him.

Instead, he decided to find out on his own, "Twenty minutes' guys."

Jaye stood up and stretched, looking around the C130; she keyed her mic to talk to Wild Bill. "Hey, Bill, where's the honey bucket?"

There was silence; then, a sheepish voice came over. "I knew I forgot something."

The look on their only female on this mission face was priceless. Spirit looked up at her, "Jaye we can rig something for you."

"No, I can hold it." She looked at her watch, "We are only fifteen minutes away." She sat down and smiled.

That fifteen minute was the cruelest fifteen minutes that Flint experienced. Flint had watched Jaye's smile turn to a look of irritation and then to downright ire.

It seemed the Texan thought it would be funny to put the C130 through its paces, landing it under combat maneuvers. None of them were happy with the Texan, but as they stood on Terra Firma, Flint was tasked with holding onto a small furious Scotswoman "RUN BILL RUN!" he yelled in his 'don't screw with me voice'.

"Boys, hold Jaye back. She's hotter than the Barrel of an M16 in a firefight against Cobra." Wild Bill screamed racing towards the hangers. It seemed that the Texan realized the error of his ways when he took one look at her delicate features screwed into a murderous mask.

"WRONG WAY BILL! THAT'S WHERE WE ARE GOING!" Spirit yelled.

Flint watched as the Texan turned on the balls of his feet and ran into the first door he found. The Pueblo Indian and Roadblock read the sign of the door, both burst out laughing as it closed behind the pilot in big bold words read WOMEN.

Lady Jaye broke free, and all Flint could do was shake his head; there was no use in trying to stop her. He cringed hearing her voice, thick with a brogue, scream all the terrible things she planned to do to him. It silenced as the door closed behind her. He hoped her bladder won over trying to get payback on their pilot.

Flint couldn't stop his laughter when Bill raced out seconds later. He turned examining the door and screamed: "Why the hell do they have Urinals!" The Texan raced towards the gate and the green shirt that was to take him to their hotel.

He motioned for the rest of them to make their way to offload their gear from the pallet brought down from the C-130 into the other SUV. Lady Jaye joined them, wearing that grin of hers meant only one thing, she was up to something.

"What did you do?" Flint had not been the receiving end of the look, yet, he had worked with her long enough in these six weeks to know she was up to something.

"Bill is my friend," Lady Jaye grinned "So, I did nothing."

Flint was surprised how quickly he had become friends with the small Joe. If she told him that the sky was purple he would believe her; but, the fact was, that after the stunt Bill pulled, she was thinking of all the ways to get back at the man. He, in no way, believed her when she said she did nothing.

It seemed that Roadblock did believe her. "Good one, Jaye."

"I don't get it." Flint knew that he was missing something.

"Nothing, she did nothing." Beachhead moaned. "She's relying on the fact that her reputation will precede her; Bill will be looking out for some major payback. That, in itself, is payback."

Spirit looked at her shaking his head then smiling "It is the most powerful tool in her arsenal - nothing."

Flint looked at her shaking his head, "You are evil, woman."

* * *

Addendum 124943 To be copied to WO-3 Faireborn, Dashiell and Sgt. Hart-Burnett, Alison (General's Personal Files): In the report of the activities of mission 2011-9-03-623: Operation Weather Dominator. I am pleasantly surprised as to the performance and teamwork of Faireborn and Hart. I have noticed on smaller missions that they work well together and balance each other out. Where Hart more readily jumps into things without thinking, Faireborn tends to pull her back. Lady Jaye, on the other hand, tends to make Faireborn a little calmer in the anger arena.

Considering the day room incident, I think no further comment or any discipline should be taken towards the Warrant Officer. It seems to have endeared him towards his troops even more. Also proving that he's not a Joe to be crossed; his bark at times is worse than his bite. It has been of some concern with my higher NCO's that his anger is uncontrollable. Considering that on numerous occasions, today included, that Hart has been able to subdue or shown that she is perfectly safe.

I know that putting the two of them together is opening the chapter for a romantic relationship between them. Honestly, with early results like theirs and the fact that they do not bring other Joes into their drama (if there is any I have no clue), I feel confident keeping the two of them together with their results at the moment, I will reevaluate as needed.

"Whatcha doing?" General Clayton Abernathy looked up to see his best friend and the CO of the Joe team's reserve platoon settled into a seat across from him.

"Writing up some addendums to personal files." Hawk turned back to his computer screen saving his work into the appropriate files.

"Let me guess, Flint's little hissy fit in the Day Room a couple of days ago?" Colton was obviously amused by the situation.

Hawk knew this was coming so he turned to her his friend making a motion for him to continue. "Let's hear it." He had learned it best to get Colton to say what's on his mind or little comments would reign supreme.

"I give them two months, you will have another Duke and Scarlett on your hands," Colton said smugly.

"Duke and Scarlett are extremely professional." General Hawk glared at his friend.

"Not saying they aren't," Colton shrugged. "Look, I'm just not wanting to see Lady Jaye rushing into something with someone that had a nickname of Romeo, or the Bachelor of Bragg."

Hawk examined Colton, "You got into the pool late."

Colton returned his look, shocked that Hawk would think such a thing him; bet on his own teammates, his, soldiers, especially one that he watched grow up. "I did not."

Hawk leaned over his desk; examining Colton's left nostril which was flaring slightly. "You did too. What is your date?"

"Eight months from now," He groaned. "So, I was thinking if you could break them apart, maybe, it will slow them down a little bit."

Hawk looked at the Joe teams Reserve Company Commander. "You want me to break up a partnership, that actually works and I don't have them killing each other so you can win a bet?"

"It will also stop Raven from having a heart attack at such an early age. You didn't see them at Izzy's last night. I know that look Flint had on his face, that's the look on my face every time I look at my wife. It's on your face every time you look at Kaylee and Duke when he looks at Scarlett."

"What look is that?" Hawk asked leaning back in his chair.

"The boy is in love, not the love that half these boys find themselves in three times a month. The boy has come down with 'fall-on-a-grenade' kind of love. That kind of feeling you can't fight; trust me I know." Joe sighed. "The kid will try. He'll think his demons are too powerful. Look one night, one look, from that little girl, he will be lost, and he will be a much better person for it."

"Kid hits you close to home?" Hawk asked. Knowing that though yes, he would like to win the pool the symmetry between Colton and the Joe team's new Executive Officer was a little closer to home than he would admit.

Colton said nothing blinking at his friend. This was more than Flint; this was his friend already mourning the potential loss of his wife. "Look Jane is going to make it through this, one way or another," Hawk said looking at his old friend.

"I can't lose her," Colton said getting his emotions under control. "I knew a C word would get us in the end. I never imagined it would be cancer."

Hawk couldn't imagine if it was his wife Kaylee, he would be a wreck. "You two have this."

"I hope; I'd be shit without her." Colton rubbed his face. Hawk felt an uncomfortable silence fall between the two of them. What did you say to a guy who was fighting something that neither of them was equipped to fight?

Moving on with a need to fill the silence "So, what brings you here?" Not that Hawk didn't enjoy his friend stopping by General Joseph Colton didn't drop by to say "Hi" ever.

Colton smiled widely, "Flamingo."

Hawk sighed dramatically, "No."

Joe shook his head, his smile growing larger, "Yes."

"Flamingo?" Clay hated that word; he was sure that was why Joe chose it. "Are you sure?"

"Flamingo!" Colton's excitement was growing. The General was bouncing in his chair.

Hawk thought about all the things he promised Kaylee he would do for her and the girls; one had Soccer practice, the other a softball game. Plus, an oil change on his Charger. He was sure there was something about cleaning the Porta Potties on the ranges too. "I have to- "

"Nope," Colton shook his head. "Ain't getting out of it, I already cleared it with Kaylee."

Hawk let his head fall on his desk. Hitting his head a few times he hoped that it would knock some sense on why the General's idea was insane. "Flamingo."

Colton's smile at this point spread ear to ear. "FLAMINGO!"

Hawk sighed "Fine, Flamingo."

"I'll get the kiddies." Colton was up out of his chair racing down the halls singing the accursed word.

All Hawk could do, hearing the bald fool's footfalls, was wince. "Flamingo." He swore.


	4. Chapter 4

_Been a crazy year... Yes sitting on a bunch of updates, have a bunch of reading to catch up on. For those wondering why my Flint is less Poet and more country song writer/Singer two reasons one and the biggest look at Flints File card... then examine when he was created in the early eighties. Check out Kris Kristofferson's biography, Rhodes Scholar, Helicopter Pilot, and Army Veteran._

 _As always I don't own... If you don't like well . I really don't care._

Coffey County Hospital Children's Wing

22 years ago

"Em, slow down," Jason Faireborn's voice rumbled in her ears, but, the willowy blond was not about to slow down.

The hospital halls were eerily quiet as Emily Faireborn made her way to the Information Desk. A familiar face looked up from her notes, studied Mrs. Faireborn's breathless state, and frowned. "Emily, I'm glad to see you; but by now, after your three girls, you should know that Maternity is two floors up."

Emily took a deep breath in the hopes to be able to talk. All she wanted to do was to tell the nurse that 'No, she didn't need Maternity. She was here for something much more important.' Unfortunately, a small foot on her diaphragm was not helping her get a deep breath.

Jason, her husband; calm as a cucumber, reached the desk and joked. "She's in a new event for the July Fourth Picnic: Speed Waddling." He smiled, ignoring her black look. "She has three more months before number four is born." He placed his calloused hand lovingly on her stomach.

Emily still couldn't catch a breath. Ashley's foot was playing soccer with her innards. "No... I'm... here... because Christopher over at Rock called me."

The nurse sighed closing her eyes, saying a prayer. "Em, don't tell me..."

"The OD was Nicole," Emily Faireborn was barely keeping her thoughts together. She instinctively touched her stomach, taking solace from the little girl that was already making her presence known. What had her not having a break down was the seven-year-old on the other side of the double doors. "Her son, Dash? That's why we are here. I was told..."

Emily closed her eyes, not wanting to repeat in front of her husband what Chris had told her about the little boy's condition. If she did, her normally calm husband would leave her standing there, go collect his shotgun, and kill that no good father of Dash's.

Amy gave her a bittersweet smile. "That little boy is a cutie; he already has all the nurses fawning over him." Amy sighed. "Room 215. His grandfather is already in there, looking... lost."

Emily nodded, thanking her friend. This morning's phone call had floored her. She had no knowledge of what shape her little sister's family had been in. How had she not known? They had just talked three days ago, and Nicole had sounded fine, not...

She sighed and shook her head; what mattered was what she could do now. Her sister was dead, and the no-good husband of hers was going to jail for a long time.

She shoved the blame and the anger aside, as a tall man in jeans and button-up shirt came into view. The older man's long black hair streaked with gray, and his brown eyes watchful, filled with such pain and sadness. "Running Bear?"

He looked up at her as if he had encountered a ghost. His eyes took her in: the maternity jeans and her Sheriff's Deputy shirt, that stretched tight against her belly. Emily realized she might need to go up another size. Having still put it off as her maternity leave was scheduled only two weeks from now. As it was, she was on desk duty; filling out reports, catching up on paperwork, and even helping Sheriff Dobbs with filings to the State and Federal Government.

"You look like Nicole only..." he shook his head as if trying to get the memory out of his mind.

"I'm her sister." She smiled. "We met at their wedding."

He nodded and then turned back "I am sorry for your loss, I hope she has found whatever she was searching for."

She poked her head into the hospital room; sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed was a little boy, small and malnourished. He had a hospital gown around his waist and the sight of his back… all it took was a glance. The bile rising up her throat caused her to look away.

"They should be glad my worthless son is in jail," Running Bear snarled. "I would have killed him, otherwise."

Running Bear turned and leaned up against the wall. "The little guy is lovable as ever." He looked like he was about to cry. "He is more worried about not getting his book back to the library. He kept saying he didn't have money for the fine. The only way to get him to go with Officer Mason was the officer had to put it in the book drop for him. He doesn't even know it's July 4th."

He watched as a nurse smile at them and walked into to the room holding a tray of ice cream. The three of them listened as she asked the little boy what flavor of Ice Cream he wanted: Vanilla, Chocolate, or Strawberry.

He blinks "I don't know, I've never had ice cream, that I remembered," he added.

The young nurse examined the boy the spooned out a spoonful of each flavor, Dashiell carefully tried each flavor his eyes lighting up with excitement and pleasure. "I like it all, but I think Strawberry is my favorite."

"Here a bowl of just strawberry." The nurse walked back out and smiled at them, then stopped. "He's a sweetheart."

They looked back in as he positioned the bowl on his leg and took a spoonful, placing it in his mouth, letting it melt. Then, back to the book he was reading.

"I found out from Social Services, that he hasn't been to School. Ever." Running Bear growled. "Nobody noticed."

Emily wondered how her sister had kept up the charade. How had she, a Sheriff's deputy, not found out? She then remembered; Nicole had mentioned Home Schooling. "I thought she had him in a program designed for Native American kids, so they learn more about their culture."

Running Bear snorted, "I've seen those, but that boy ain't got a clue about his heritage. I went to that house; Dash has two pairs of shorts, three pairs of socks, two shirts: one too small and one too big. A pair of shoes that he taped with scotch tape to keep together. There were no school books, no paper, nothing like that. He didn't even have toothpaste or soap. He had been eating white rice for god knows how long." He watched as the little boy took another bite of strawberry ice cream, giggle, and then turning back to his book.

"How the hell, if that kid never went to school, can he read a Stephen King Novel?" Running Bear asked them.

"Jessie would flip through paperbacks when she was little, pretending to be an adult." Jason shrugged.

"He understands it." Running Bear told them, "He wanted to know about Tommy Knockers."

"You're still letting him read it?" Jason asked. "That book gave me nightmares."

Emily had to admit that Stephen King was not her choice, but something told her that this was the best choice the nurses could find for him. "Can we see him?"

"Before you do, I have a favor to ask," Running Bear looked at her. She stopped and noticed in his expression that this was important. He looked at his hands, and she noticed a tear fall onto the floor.

"Of course." She smiled. Emily reached over rubbing his arm, coaxing him to ask whatever he needed.

"That kid is too smart. The tribe will want him... but he... I know it's a lot to ask, I'm willing to help." He looked like the question was tearing him apart. Then, he finished and, as he did it seemed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. " If I disavow knowledge and say he's not Jacob's…"

"Then the tribe..." Emily knew exactly what he was proposing.

"I know you have your girls; Nicole had talked about them," He sighed. "I've got money saved up. Our schools, they… you can give him more advantages. Once the adoption is finalized, I will claim him again. No money will come out of your pocket. I just need him…"

"Aunt EMILY!" Dashiell had realized she was standing in the hallway outside his door. With a giggle, he jumped out of the bed, raced over to her. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, as he slid to a stop in front of her.

Emily watched his brows furrow, looking at her quizzically and then down at his arms. The little guy was working out that he did not have the reach to give her a proper hug. In an adorable whisper, he admitted, "My arms are too little."

It took some effort, but she got down on her knees. "How's this big guy?"

Dashiell nodded; wrapping his arms around her neck, carefully, she hugged him back. Emily's heart broke when she noticed how long he held on to her. He finally let go and gave her a wide, slightly crooked smile, "I'm very glad to see you."

Jason looked down at him, "Where's my hug?"

Her heart broke as the young boy looked up at her husband, scared. Jason hid the hurt in his face; here was her love, her heart with his Bo Duke, Country Boy good looks. He had the kindest soul she knew of any man. She watched as the man took a knee next to her, as Dash examined him.

Jason stayed very still, the little boy watched him, wary. Emily heard a sob from Dash; she watched as the seven-year-old flung himself into Jason's chest, melting into him. Her heart wrenched, and she had to take gulping breaths to stop from breaking down and crying.

She and her little sister had never been close. There was something about Nicole that had always scared Emily, selfish and uncaring, Emily never thought her sister would be as bad as she was.

Finally, she watched her husband stand up, the little boy still in his arms and walked to a rocking chair in the middle of the ward. Dash had fallen asleep, his head on Jason's shoulder. Her husband, in a soft whisper, "I will call Mark, the family lawyer, in the morning to start the process."

Running Bear nodded, mouthing, "Thank You."

"Now, Emily, it looks like I'm stuck, could you please go find out when we can take home the newest addition to the Faireborn family." He said rocking softly, singing in his rich voice, Rose of My Heart.

Twenty-four Years Later

"John, I will not concede to your point." Emily Faireborn said, following the Chief of Police of Udall into the Sheriffs Satellite office.

"Spoken like a true politician, Em." He chuckled.

"I am not a politician, and you know it." She growled. "That's why I am not going to run for Congress, that's absurd."

"Look, Morrison has been up there in D.C. for twenty years, and his farm just went Corporate. Corporate, dammit!" John Miller, Chief of Police said, disgusted. Turning to her, he gave her a pointed look. "You understand the challenges of this area. All I'm saying is there are many people that would like to see you represent this district."

Emily turned and blinked, "You know, that is the same speech Jason gave me last night, verbatim. "

"Okay, so when I say we… I mean the guys at the co-op talked about." He looked at her sheepishly.

"Let me guess, my Father and Running Bear was head of that conversation." Her father and her son's grandfather seemed to have it in their head that she was the perfect candidate to oppose Morrison. The current Congressman was up for re-election next year, somehow her family, friends and now the town of Udall were jumping on Emily Faireborn for Congress, bandwagon.

"Running Bear did start the conversation," John admitted. "But it makes sense. Look at everything you have accomplished here, and you are an upstanding citizen, plus. People like you."

She turned, stopping his entrance into her office, arms akimbo. "How much did my dad pay you?"

"Thirty percent off my feed for the next year," He winced, then added, "Only if I can get you to run."

She stared at him and growled. He continued quickly, "You have your parties support. I talked to Walter at the weekly Square Dance at the VFW." John grinned, "He thinks it is a great idea."

She took the files, signing off on requisitions, memos, and two warrants. John patiently stood waiting for her to finish. Emily sighed, realizing this conversation was far from over. Turning, she stared at him; he gave her his most charming smile.

"It helps that you and your family have a spotless record." He continued. "We all know about Morrison's granddaughter's shoplifting scandal."

"She's ten, and it was a pack of gum," Emily blinked. "The only one of my kids that didn't pull that kind of stunt was Dashiell. Don't forget he spent the weekend in a jail cell in Texas. Let's not even get into Aubrey and the Mexican Prison."

"Dash? That jail time was when he was called something that nobody should be called," John shook his head. "It's a good thing Marissa isn't alive to realize what an asswipe that Sneedon boy is."

"Did you not put my son in a cell once?" Emily remembered the night of her son's class reunion; he had left his childhood home looking every inch a soldier.

The next morning her son covering himself up with a pillow looking stricken, asking if she brought him clothes. She hadn't and told him he would have to do the world's greatest Walk of Shame. How she wished this was some college prank, or even him blowing off steam when he came home to visit after graduating Basic Training.

No, he was sharing the cell with his three childhood best friends: Mike, a former Army Sergeant and now one of the most sought-after horse trainers in the tri-state area, Baker, the county's ADA, and Luca, her son-in-law. All looking contrite and all naked.

"Look that boy is a good kid, everyone in this town gets a night in that cell, even you did." John pointed out. "Class of 1984, five-year reunion, so what? When he gets drunk, his clothes fall off? My wife has the same problem. With him it could be a helluva lot worst; you and Jason did an amazing job with an amazing boy."

"Is that why you're always getting your wife drunk? So, you can get lucky?" Emily purposely ignored the part about her son. John was right, Dashiell was a great son. He did have one quality that she, nor her husband, had a clue where it came from; the boy had an ego that took up its own time zone.

"You ladies at the book club talk too much." He waved his finger at her. "But trust me, Dashiell, you will find, will be an asset. Everyone is still talking about the press conference he held last week after another one of those Cobra plots."

Emily groaned. "Do me a favor don't tell him what a good job he did. We won't be able to live with him; his ego will take up the whole house. The next time he visits, we will be forced to sleep in the yard."

"Emily, you love him, and just consider what he could be like. Besides, the kid doesn't boast about anything that isn't true, and he gets away with it because he brags about everyone else's achievements, too." John said, taking the paperwork the Chief of Police came in for. "In short, you and Jason did an amazing job raising that kid, even if he has an ego and runs around naked."

"But, Chief, sometimes they just have to swing free." A husky voice said to cause them both to turn and look.

Emily stood, gaped mouth, just to have the handsome young man push her chin up to close her slacked jaw. "You can breathe momma."

She let out a squeal, not caring if it sounded a little girly. "The Sergeant I talked to said nothing about you coming here."

"I asked her to let me surprise you," he chuckled. She squeezed around his neck and hung there. "Mom. I. Can't. Breath. Light… fading… fast…"

She let him go and shook her head at him. "How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough to hear how amazing Police Chief Harris thinks I am," he smiled widely. John shrugged when Emily glared at him. "You spent time in the pokey? Mom, you rebel you, do you have the striped suit?"

She hit her son on the arm. "Dashiell Faireborn, watch it."

He tugged at a piece of Emily's hair that had escaped her bun. She returned the gesture by tugging at his ear, a little too roughly. He rubbed it giving her a black look when she let go. "I agree with Mr. Harris and the men at the Co-op; you should run for Congress."

"I am not a politician," she reminded her son.

"That's why you would be perfect for the job." he sobered. "Look, Mom, this new unit I'm in, I have to deal with career politicians; sometimes I wonder if they are more worried about getting votes than the needs of the voters."

"I want to spend time with your father, not be in DC while he struggles with the ranch alone." she pointed out. "Dash, his heart attack last year…"

"I know. But Jessie and Luca are ready and willing to take over the farm. It's their turn, and if you won a Congressional seat, Dad wouldn't let you go by yourself. He'd be too afraid that some suave man about town might try and snap you up. I know Dad, and this is the excuse we need to get him to slow down and enjoy a well-deserved retirement."

She took her son's face in her hands. "We will have a family meeting before anything is decided." She looked at him "Now, let's talk about something we can take care of the problem over the Green's house."

He gave her a look, through narrowed eyes. Emily knew the conversation was far from over, in her son's mind. Thankfully he nodded and pulled her over to a man and woman that were watching the scene with curiosity. "This is Charlie Iron-Knife, but we call him Spirit, and you have spoken on the phone with Lady Jaye."

This young woman was not what Emily expected; small, with shoulder-length brown hair. The brunette possessed a smile that screamed she was up to something and her warm chocolate eyes, that took up half of her face, shown with intelligence. Excusing the fact that Emily was positive that the woman's true eye color wasn't brown, she was adorable.

Emily held her hand out and charmed by the young woman's bubbly smile.

"Yes, we have, Sergeant Hart-Burnett; most people call me Lady Jaye." Her accent had surprised the Sheriff on the phone; hearing it in person, memories of her grandmother came to mind.

"Well, I expect we better get this show on the road." Emily smiled brightly. "Dash, I hope you remember how to get home from here?"

Emily watched her son act confused, "Is it a right at the bucket or a left at the beat-up Ford."

"Mark sold the Ford ten months ago," Emily explained, the meaning was clear, he didn't come home nearly as much as he should.

Thank goodness, her son looked contrite. But then, to her exasperation, his orneriness took over with his blue eyes sparkling he grinned, "Great, now I am going to get really lost."


End file.
